LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

Chap Copyright No 

Shelf, _ Ail, •■ 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 




WUwcLTCJb cJcu/ ^2^ 



HIOU TENAS IKTAH 



BY 



EDWARD JAY ALLEN 




CAMBRIDGE 



MDCCCC 



93051 

Library of Concrresa 

Two CoptEs Received 
DEC 24 1900 

ft. Copyright wtfY 

SECOND COPY 
Oe(iverod to 

OHDER DIVISION 

JAN 10 1901 



^\o^ 



COPYRIGHT, 1900, BY EDWARD JAY ALLEN 
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 



TO 

THE DEAREST LITTLE WOMAN 
IN THE WORLD 



HIOU TENAS IKTAH 

This Chinook title ("A Lot of Trifles ") is de- 
scriptive of the contents of this volume. Cer- 
tainly if they depended upon their merits for pub- 
lication they would never have known print. They 
are published for a very few, and will be in pos- 
session only of those whose regard for the writer 
will disarm just criticism. 

To say that the raison d'etre of their publica- 
tion was deference to the earnest desire of those 
nearest and dearest to me, is probably only to 
offer a new proof that mankind has not changed 
greatly since the too willing Adam palliated his 
offense by urging, " The woman tempted me 
and I did eat." 

E. J. A. 

" Edgehill," October, 1900. 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

WRITTEN ON MISS GUSSIE'S FAN 7 

TO A. S., ACCOMPANIED BY A BASKET OF THORN 

BURRS 8 

ON THE FLY-LEAF OF EDNA's DIARY WHEN A 

CHILD . 9 

TO MY DAUGHTER MAY (EASTER MORNING, "EDGE- 
HILL ") lO 

TWILIGHT II 

IN MEMORIAM I3 

AT CHURCH 15 

ABSENT 17 

DRIFTING 18 

THE GOLDEN WEDDING 20 

WRITTEN FOR COUSIN JOHN'S WOODEN WEDDING . 2$ 

TO MR. AND MRS. S. S. C 27 

ANTE BELLUM 29 

IN ARMIS 32 

SIGEL 35 

GARFIELD, 1881 37 

AD CCELUM 39 

"FALL in!" COMRADES 41 

THE VETERAN 46 

GETTYSBURG — THIRTY YEARS AFTER ..... 49 

OLD STEAMBOAT DAYS SI 

SET TO MUSIC 53 

THE OLDEN TIME 55 

KATHLEEN O'MORE S7 



CONTENTS 

THE OLD PLAYGROUND 59 

UNFURL THE GLORIOUS BANNER 60 

RHYMING ADDRESSES TO LETTERS 63 

IN CALLOW DAYS 93 

MUSIC 95 

THE STOMACH-ACHE 97 

TO BROTHER GEORGE 99 

BURIAL PRAYER lOI 

TO BROTHER WILLIAM IO3 

TO SISTER ELIZABETH IO5 

REPLY OF COLONEL EDWARD JAY ALLEN . . .110 



HIOU TENAS IKTAH 



WRITTEN ON MISS GUSSIE'S FAN 

WHEN SHE WAS LEAVING HOT SPRINGS, ARKANSAS 

Music's fair self doth bid us all good-by, 
And we remain where lingering tones yet tell 
In dying cadence of the dear hours gone, 
And of the dear friend bidding us farewell. 

Yet speed thee on thy joyous homeward way, 
For kind friends there stand hopeful at the gate ; 
But yet look back and hope life ever may 
As now, where friends are left, show friends that 
wait. 

And when fate brings, as certainly it will, 
The one to whom all else is naught beside, 
May after years be all as full of hope 
As filled the heart of the expectant bride. 
(7) 



TO A. S., ACCOMPANIED BY A BASKET OF 
THORN BURRS 

Through Life's journey, bright or drear, 
Many thorns Hke these are seen ; 
Through Life's desert there and here 
Are isles of flowers, and thorns between. 

Mischance will teach, though dearly bought. 
To 'scape the thorn, yet pluck the flower, 
By guarding 'gainst dark afterthought 
While we enjoy the present hour. 

Pray God that you may never rue 
The thistles keen of nettles sown ; 
• Be these the only thorns that you 
May ever own. 

(8) 



ON THE FLY-LEAF OF EDNA'S DIARY 
WHEN A CHILD 

Bear record on thy stainless leaves 

Of stainless youth and early spring, 

With all the thoughts the springtime weaves, 

And all its glad, sweet blossoming. 

O tender thoughts, O loving years. 
The bright earth brings its fruits and wine ; 
And reaches out, in smiles and tears, 
To all the glow of summertime. 

O radiant Youth, the circling suns, 
That sweep the dewy morns away. 
But promise, when the twilight comes, 
The sunshine of another day. 

O glorious hope, O faith sublime. 
That lives beyond our childish years ! 
For trusting still, this harvest time, 
We cast aside our trembling fears. 

And know that when the coming night 
From earthly hope all ties shall sever, 
A brighter sun, with glorious light. 
Shall shine upon our lives forever. 
(9) 



TO MY DAUGHTER MAY (EASTER MORN- 
ING, " EDGEHILL ") 

Amid the bloom of early spring, 
In April smiles and April tears, 
The little maiden came to bring 
Surcease from all our loving fears. 

The orchard blooms have come and gone, 
And fleeting years, with eager feet, 
Have borne the little maiden on 
Where womanhood and girlhood meet. 

But in this joyous Easter-time 
We pluck the blossoms from the peach. 
And, dreaming of the days lang syne, 
Forget the years beyond our reach. 

In loving thought of earlier days, 
In loving thought of years between, 
We give again the orchard sprays 
To " Little Blossom," sweet sixteen. 

(10) 



TWILIGHT 

Silent within is the empty room, 
Solemn without is the darkening moor ; 
A dreary void in my heart to-night, 
Sitting alone in the open door. 

The darkening shadows flit over the plain, 
The bleak, gray sky closes down on the lea ; 
Memory wakens her sorrows again. 
Night and sadness companion me. 

A funeral train in the heart to-night, 

Ah, hopes that are lost ! ah, friends that are 

gone ! 
Ah, hours that are fled ! so gayly sped, 
In fair lands under the western sun. 

Shadows without and shadows within, 
Shadows that stretch from the far blue sea ; 
Trooping like spectres, weird and dim. 
All the sad years come back to me. 

Silently glides my wife to my side, 
Beaming with love are her gentle eyes, 
Softly her dear hand, pressing mine. 
Gladdens my soul with a sweet surprise. 
(II) 



12 TWILIGHT 

Close, close to my heart ! The shadows depart, 
Serene the moon rises over the plain ; 
The dead years are dust, and love's gentle trust 
Is mine, and I face the bleak world again. 



IN MEMORIAM 

Press onward in the path of life, 
We scarce may linger here to weep. 
Press forward to the daily strife, 
The while our tears run deep. 
The old, old grief ! some time the sun 
Shines sadly down on every one. 

The old, old grief ! So fair, so young, 
No words have said, no song has sung, 
Such grace as his. The sun is dim ; 
Its wistful light shines down on him 
Shrouded beneath the winter snow, 
Dead, and ah ! we loved him so. 

A bitter world. We fain would weep, 
And yet we cannot think him dead ; 
This death is but a sadder sleep. 
O eyes of love, O fair young head, 
O restless feet ! Still in the clay 
We loved him so, — but yesterday. 

Only one longing, eager gaze 
Into the world so fair to see, 
(13) 



14 IN MEMORIAM 

One eager look — his summer days 
Lapsed to their quiet close, and he, 
Upon the threshold of his years, 
His burden laid of hopes and fears. 

The old, old grief ! how old a grief ! 
Our sorrow seems as yet so near, 
It seems almost beyond belief 
That he is gone, and we are here. 
His cap lies there, his book half read ; 
We cannot — cannot — think him dead. 

Speed, Time, your flight, and bear us on ; 
He cannot stoop, but we may rise 
To wing our flight where he has gone 
Beyond our grief, beyond our sighs. 
Press onward, for the path he trod 
Shall lead us, also, up to God. 



AT CHURCH 

The grand old hymn was pealing down the 

aisles 
The melody that thro' the centuries dim 
Gave hope and comfort to the faint and worn, 
With earnest praise and prayerful hope in Him 
Who died that weary ones immortal rest might 

win. 

His gray hair drooped upon his folded palms, 
The aged pastor knelt within the altar place. 
And as the waves of music, murmuring, ceased. 
Sent up his quavering plaint for Heaven's grace, 
As one who knoweth God is with him, face to 
face. 

So kneeled and prayed the men of ages gone, 
With faith that soared to the Eternal's throne, 
And gave to tender hope assurance clear ; 
Their tones down through the centuries come. 
And yet I hear the aged pastor's voice alone. 

O simple faith ! O earnest soul and true ! 
Thy words seem music echoing from the shore, 
(IS) 



i6 AT CHURCH 

Whose golden sands and gleaming waters woo 
The footprints of the godlike men of yore, 
Whose ringing words shall echo through the 
ages evermore. 

The plaint thrills thro' me like a yearning pain, 
And prisoned prayer doth throb my heart within ; 
I cannot breathe the pleading, tho' full fain. 
And yet I know that loving angel kin 
Would bear the words to Heaven, could I but 
utter them. 



ABSENT 

Absent, yet thou art here ; 

What though the weary leagues divide ? 

Press close, ah, closer to my side ! 

I feel the magic of thy love to-night 

Pulsing across the shadow and the light ; 

Nearer, my love, more near ! 

Still linger, gentle hours. 
And smile upon the ebbing care and gloom ; 
The glow of hope and home is in the room ; 
Within its light I walk with pride. 
Loving and loved, for she is by my side 
Strewing the way with flowers. 

Ah, Sweet, thy tender hand 
Hath led, when failed the schoolman's lore. 
The Love that, scorning time and space, can soar 
Beyond their bounds, hath life beyond the earth. 
Enshrine me in thy heart, and lead me forth 
Into the Unknown Land. 
(17) 



DRIFTING 

The bygone years are with the dead ; 
Peace to the past ; but overhead 
The summer sun shines warm and fair 
And gilds fond hope with golden beam ; 
And mellow murmurs 'round our boat 
With raptures thrill the radiant air, 
As idly down the stream we float, 
And dream, and dream. 

My love and I, the world is old ; 
In ages past have hearts grown cold ; 
Above the wrecks so darkly gleamed 
The tide which now so fair doth seem. 
Bright faces gone, that fondly deemed 
The world was fair and lovers true. 
And drifted on, as I with you, 
And dreamed, and dreamed. 

My love and I, the world is young. 

Though wrecks drift by where hopes have clung ; 

My love and I, true heart of mine, 

The listening winds may sigh and deem 

Our hearts, like those who loved before, 

(i8) 



DRIFTING 19 

May sink beneath the tides of time ; 
But side by side, thy hand in mine, 
We dream, and dream. 

The world is old, the world is young ; 
In ages past sweet words were sung ; 
The melody adown the years 
Has floated on the murmuring stream. 
The loves of old are on the tide. 
Their glorious hopes, their gentle fears, 
My love and I ; cling to my side, 
And dream, and dream. 



THE GOLDEN WEDDING 

TO H. W. O., JR. 

O WINDS of March, breathe soft and low 
The promises of early spring, 
And hopes of fifty years ago, 
When merry marriage bells did ring. 
And thrilling through the balmy air 
Went echoing down the happy days, 
In music for the wedded pair 
And cheer for all the pleasant ways. 

Sweet memories of youth and love, 

When March snowed daisies o'er the land, 

And vernal skies were fair above, 

And Spring and Hope went hand in hand ! 

Into our heart of hearts to-night 

Come wedding guests. Sweet welcome here 

As in that time of dear delight 

And solemn vows, gone fifty year. 

All good friends, welcome ! Time speeds on, 
But love shall never find an end ; 
Though spring has faded, summer gone. 
In peace our autumn days we spend. 

(20) 



THE GOLDEN WEDDING 21 

Thank God, we 're clasped hand in hand, 
'Mid cares that every one must know, 
As when the sunshine decked the land 
That springtime, fifty years ago. 

Though far the isle across the sea. 
And wild waves roll the waste between, 
To-night the leagues are naught, and we 
Are looking on the meadows green. 
The robin's song is sweet and clear. 
In hedgerows where the timid hare 
Shrinks close to catch, with listening ear, 
The signal from the sentinel air. 

And hopes and dreams of years to come, 
And tender thoughts fill all the days. 
Ah, wife ! God bless the dear old home ; 
Though absent from familiar ways. 
To-night our youth again comes back, 
In memory of the scenes so dear. 
And full across the ocean track 
Sweeps the strong tide of fifty year. 

God bless the new home ! Bless the land 
That cheers the guest from every shore. 
And stretches out an eager hand 
And opens wide the friendly door. 
Where he who sows may harvest in. 
Where he who toils may rest, or when 



22 THE GOLDEN WEDDING 

He strives, the highest goal may win ; 
God bless the land of equal men ! 

Aye, He has blessed it ; never yet 
In centuries hath such glory been ; 
On nations old the sun may set. 
And still this glowing light be seen. 
Through ages shall this banner wave, 
Through ages shall its radiance be 
A guide for loyal men and brave, 
A beacon till the world be free. 

Give praise to whom our thanks are due ; 
Good wife, the years have kindly been. 
Blessings have crowned the old home and the 

new ; 
In olden days we little dreamed, I ween. 
Of all these sturdy children at our knees ; 
Humble thanks for all, for all our store. 
For Indian-summer days and hours of ease. 
And most, that all are gathered here once more. 

A wistful eye ? Ah, yes, the mother's heart. 
Where once the baby fingers soft have pressed. 
Will aye throb to the thought, can never part 
With earliest love. O loving breast, 
While I was dreaming the old dreams again 
Of early springtime when we first were wed, 
The mother-love was feeling the old pain 
For bright eyes dim, and daisies overhead. 



THE GOLDEN WEDDING 23 

Thank God for all, for tender thought, 
For present good. All things are well ; 
For all things the dear Lord hath wrought, 
Who can His wisdom doubt, His mercy tell ? 
To us He gave the earth ; cling hand in hand. 
For love 's eternal, and with dear ones gone. 
Abides forever in the better land 
To which through fifty years we 're pressing on. 

So, gather 'round the hearth to-night, 
Make this with joy and festive cheer. 
And kindly thought, and faces bright, 
The happiest night of all the year. 
And would that over seas so drear 
March winds could bear a message kind, 
Of greeting from our circle here 
For those we loved and left behind. 

What though our heads are silvered o'er 
With frosts that tell of winter snow. 
What though the summers nevermore 
Shall shine like summers long ago .-' 
We care not, so within our eyes 
Shines dear and pure the olden light, 
And still our wedded life we prize. 
As in those days of dear delight. 

The springs shall lose their tender green, 
The summer roses fade and fall, 
The painted autumns dim their sheen, 



24 THE GOLDEN WEDDING 

And winter frost reign over all ; 
But love beyond the lapse of time 
Shall live in purity and truth 
Forever in a heavenly clime, 
Immortal in immortal youth. 

O fifty years of joy and grief ! 
O fifty years, within whose pale 
No moment found an unbelief, 
No moment saw affection fail ! 
O heart so strong ! O heart so true ! 
My refuge in all doubts and fears, 
To-night I pledge my love anew, 
O golden bride of fifty years J 



WRITTEN FOR COUSIN JOHN'S WOODEN 
WEDDING 

Hearty welcome to-night, good friends, one and 
all, 

God bless us ; to-night we '11 be merry together ; 

Hand to hand — heart to heart — whatever be- 
fall. 

Where true love is present, there 's ever fair 
weather. 

There are clouds, as we know, the dear wife and I, 
And storms in our life, they come and they go ; 
But love, like a sun, clears up the dark sky. 
And we learn that life's lesson is patience; 
and so 

If I 've learned that the angel I wooed was a 
woman. 

Why, better for me, God bless the dear wife ; 

If she learned that her hero, alas ! was but hu- 
man. 

The better for both, — we 've a happier life. 

Babies ? Yes, three of them, plump as you see, 
Healthy and bright, from the toddler down 

(25) 



26 JOHN'S WOODEN WEDDING 

To the cherub that croons on his mother's knee. 
It seems a most wonderful thing to me 

How patient a mother will be with her child ; 
Could the angels be any more tender and true ? 
Ah ! friends, the Mother is dearer to me 
Than any weak dream of youth that I knew. 

So we 're happy to-night, and we bid you good- 
cheer, 

For, husband and children and wife altogether, 

We 're happier far because you are here ; 

With friendship and love there is always fair 
weather. 



TO MR. AND MRS. S. S. C. 

ON THE SEVENTH ANNIVERSARY OF THEIR MARRIAGE 

Draw both the oaken shutters near, 
Draw down the curtain-folds of snow, 
And let the light from chandelier 
Reflect the firelight's golden glow, 

Till shadows dim, with lingering feet 
Flit out into the darkening night, 
And, sighing down the weary street. 
Leave hope and joy and radiance bright. 

Shut out all thoughts of winter drear ; 
Shut out the moaning, chilling wind ; 
And grouped about the fireside here, 
All precious thoughts and fancies find. 

Sweet peace, drop down like gentle rain 
Thy blessings on this bridal day, 
Which fleeting time has brought again. 
While Love strewed roses on the way. 

Seven circling years, O robber Time, 
Though swept into the eternal past. 
Their memory, like church-bell chime. 
Shall echo sweetly to the last. 
(27) 



28 TO MR. AND MRS. S. S. C. 

O coming years, bring flowers to greet 
This twain, who, clasping hand in hand, 
Go forth in faith thy steps to meet, 
While Time shakes down his golden sand. 

One, self-reliant, earnest, still, 
One seeking others' good alone. 
Both acting with a common will, 
God's blessing on their pleasant home ! 

Throw back the oaken shutters wide, 
Open the curtain-folds of snow ; 
Shine out upon the bleak wayside 
The gleaming, golden firelight's glow. 

Haply the weary passer-by. 
Cheered by the rays of ruddy light. 
Shall linger by the window nigh, 
And bless the homelit radiance bright. 

A token blest, for who may say 
How many hearts have known new cheer. 
Because she shone upon their way, 
Who bids us joyful welcome here. 

May all their wishes join with ours, 
And make this house their loving throne. 
And strew the coming years with flowers, 
And bring God's blessing on this home. 



ANTE BELLUM 
1852 

WHAT THE DREAMER SAID TO THE SOUTH WIND 

O SWEET South Wind, blow o'er me thy sooth- 
ing summer air ; 

In thy slumberous, murmuring music, let me 
drowse away my care ; 

Let me dream the dreams of youth as once I did 
of yore; 

Bring me visions of the springtime, of the days 
that are no more. 

Ah, gentle wind, why ask we for more than life 

like this ? 
What more to have, what more to hope, what more 

has earth of bliss ? 
Why reck we of the future ? Let the hours glide 

on their way ; 
Let the morrow bear its burden ; enough for us, 

to-day. 

The prodigal magnolia has scattered incense rare. 
The scent of fragrant orange groves is in the odor- 
ous air, 

{29) 



30 ANTE BELLUM 

And rippling tides on crescent shores, and billows 
on the sea; 

O balmy southern wind, that brings these mur- 
murs unto me ! 

Sweet music is thy murmuring, and yet me- 
thinks I dream 

An undertone of sadness floats upon thy rhyth- 
mic stream. 

Bring joyous strains, and banish all trace of pain 
and sorrow ; 

Said I not, I live to-day, and reck not of the mor- 
row ? 

Why tell of bleeding bondsmen ? Do you deem it 

well that I 
In the hearing, lose the beauty of this glorious 

summer! sky ? 
Why wilt thou hear their plaining, curs6d with 

the curse of Cain, 
Marked by God as beasts of burden, worthy only 

of the chain ? 

Let them suffer and not murmur, O gentle 

southern breeze ; 
Bear not upon thy pinions the plaint of such as 

these ; 
Bring me only odors, sensuous, dreamy, of the 

southern clime. 



ANTE BELLUM 31 

So I drowse in thy embracing and forget the 
lapse of time. 

Shall I bear my brother's burden ? In the wis- 
dom of God's plan, 

If he now is alien, outcast, bondsman to his fel- 
low man. 

Why should I reck ? To-day he, patient, bears 
the rod ; 

To-morrow, if his wrong be foul, the right will 
come from God. 

Then gentle wind, enwrap me within thy sweet 

embrace ; 
Sing only of the orange blooms and summer's 

sunny grace ; 
Lost in thy soothing music, the hours go drifting 

by 
As idly as the fleecy clouds across the azure sky. 



IN ARMIS 
1862 

WHAT THE SOUTH WIND SAID TO THE DREAMER 

Again I hear the South Wind sweep o'er our 

Northern line ; 
Arise, and hark the surging, O dreaming soul of 

mine ! 
Sobbing and sighing in the gusts and with the 

roll of drums, 
And battle shout, and cannon roar, and shriek of 

shell, it comes. 

And dying groan, and triumph cheer, and clash 

of bayonet. 
With bugle call, and tramp of horse in deadly 

combat met. 
And crash of arms. The lull of strife, — again 

the dropping shot, 
O God ! what horror in the air ! Is this the peace 

I sought ? 

And high above these thunder sounds, a starv- 
ing, wailing moan 

Thrills through my heart ; a chilling fear sways 
me at every tone ; 
(32) 



IN ARMIS 33 

O constant wind, that still doth bear the bonds- 
man's plaints to me, 

How sadder in these war's alarms than erst they 
seemed to be. 

List ! List ! Great God ! Not Afric's sons' but 

kindred's voice it seems, 
Starving, and we stand idle here ! Awake we 

from our dreams ! 
Rush to your arms, — rise, freemen all ! myself 

will lead the van ; 
March ye onward to the rescue, press ye forward, 

every man ! 

Stay, dreamer under summer skies. Not yours 

to lead the line ; 
To light the path to freedom needs a purer hand 

than thine ; 
Thou couldst listen to the bondsman as he wept 

beneath the rod ; 
Thy kindred are not kindred, more than these are, 

unto God. 

Thou couldst prate of God's ordaining, bid him, 

patient, bear his fate ; 
Drowse now in the summer sunshine. Do thou 

God's patience wait ; 
Fool ! when thou knew heaven's portals ope to 

men of every clime. 



34 IN ARMIS 

Thou couldst waste thy life in scorning — Is his 
future not as thine ? 



Humbly I hear. O weak ! O blind ! — that 
could not dimly see 

The wrong I did not strive to right was wrong 
done unto me. 

The chains that bound their slaves of yore our 
brethren bind to-day ; 

Mine own hands helped the forging — what sad- 
der can I say ? 

Arise, take up thine arms ; thou, too, art worthy 

of the fight. 
The land shakes with an armed tread, Humility 

is Might. 
Fall into line. Ho ! sweep along, loose every 

clanking chain ; 
All men are kindred, — make them free, and leave 

to God the gain. 

What though your legions yesterday were well- 
nigh forced to yield .-* 

Shout the battle cry of freedom ; lo ! God is in 
the field. 

Burst open every prison gate. The glorious sun 
to-day 

Shines on your arms victorious — Jehovah leads 
the way. 



SIGEL 

V 

Hark to the battle cry ! 
Hark to the deep-mouthed cannon's roar, 
Beside the river's brink ; from shore to shore 
The echoes sweep the mountain crags along ; 
Potomac's classic tide, Kanawha's stream 
Take up and thunder back the echoing song. 
The rebel soldier wakens from his dream 
And trembles, as the mountains o'er and o'er 
Shout " Sigel ! Sigel in the field once more ! " 

Grand old Missouri hears the sound, 

And hstening by the Mississippi's brim 

She, too, exultant, shouts the praise of him 

Who on her southern borderland 

Met and hurled back the locust band 

That ravaged her fair fields. Once more, 

O brave, stretch forth thy warlike hand to save. 

Missouri's plains now echo to thy glory ; 

Virginia's mountains shall repeat the story. 

Hail to thee, German Land ! 
And thou, O children of the sunny Rhine ! 
Whose blood in freedom's cause has flowed like 
wine; 

(35) 



36 SIGEL 

To thee all hail ! Once more upon the field 
Thy chosen chief his battle brand will wield. 
Nor thou alone may'st throb with patriot pride ; 
We proudly in the strife stand by thy side, 
And battle hand in hand. 



GARFIELD, 1881 

Le roi est mort 

" Earth's highest station ends in ' Here he lies,' 
And ' Dust to dust ' concludes her noblest song." 

Sweep in, wild waves, upon the shore, 
With sobbing gusts die on the strand ; 
Thy music cheereth nevermore 
The loved of all this loving land. 
Call back thy spirits of the mist 
That strove, thro' all the solemn night, 
To spread their silvery robes and veil 
This sorrow from the morning light, 

And wept before the questioning sun 
That rent the fleecy robes away. 
And arrowy gleams sent blazoning down 
To where the Nation's Martyr lay. 

Fade, mist, and fall in gentle dew, 
As falls the teardrops from our eyes ; 
Shine, sun, upon the face so true ; 
Light up the life so pure and wise. 
(37) 



38 GARFIELD, 1881 

O scholar, learned in worldly lore ; 
O soldier, born to take command ; 
O statesman, in whose brain this store 
Of gifts wrought wonders for the land ! 

O heart, so ready to endure ; 

O heart, so tender yet so true ; 

O dauntless courage, true and pure ; 

O patient faith, 'mid scoff and wrong ! 

Thanks, kindly Death ; the wordy strife, 
And arrows barbed of contests keen — 
The earnests of an earnest life, 
Have faded from this face serene. 

Dead, dead ! O calm, cold face ! 
We see it through our blinding tears. 
All passionless, sealed with the grace 
And promise of the eternal years. 

Sweep in, wild waves, upon the shore. 
In requiem die upon the strand. 
And sing of him for evermore. 
The loved of all this loving land. 



AD CCELUM 

GARFIELD, 1 88 1 

Upward, beyond the thrall of earth, to realms of 

light. 
The spirit, freed from mortal taint, quick sped 

its flight ; 
Fame rose on swifter wing, and at Heaven's 

gate. 
Sang the triumphant song of him who dies 
Crowned with the proudest honors of the state, 
And laurel-wreathed, as having won earth's great- 
est prize. 

Swelling in great melodious chords, the music 

swept 
Up to the golden threshold where the Angel 

kept 
Bright watch and ward to care who entered in, 
And still, while listening, kept the watch with 

dole, 
And wept to think such honors might not win 
Eternal rest, fit guerdon for the weary soul. 
(39) 



40 AD CGELUM 

The while the spirit meek, with patient courage 

stood 
Hopeful, and yet submissive to the Master's 

mood, 
Lo, upward from the dim earth swinging low, 
Came pleading voices on the charmed air. 
Sweet woman's plaint, and old men's tones, and 

children's, where 
A nation knelt in Heaven-aspiring, fervent prayer. 

And tears that fell upon the earth as tho' in vain. 
In tender morn-like mist came heavenward again. 
And glowed in golden rays, as if to greet 
His radiant presence in the open door. 
While angels welcomed home with music sweet 
Him who had won Heaven's rest for evermore. 

For love is born of Heaven, the angels sing, 
And he who, purged of earthly dross, may bring 
The measure of such love from mortal state 
Has heritage of Heaven ; and it were meet 
That he should joyous enter at the golden gate, 
And lay his precious treasure at the Master's feet. 



"FALL IN!" COMRADES 

Here are the old boys together again, the Boys 
in Blue ; 
God bless us all, comrades, old friends. Here 's 
both hands to you. 
I seem to hear the bugle call, and martial music 
sweet. 
And see the flash of the guns, and hear the 
tramp of marching feet, 

The deep boom of the cannon, the muskets' 
crackling rattle, 
The yells, and fierce assault upon the thin blue 
line of battle, 
And the wild cheers of our comrades, as our eager 
column comes, 
Pressing forward from the distance to the plead- 
ing of the guns. 

It is but a moment's glow. We are old, we Boys 
in Blue, 
We close up our lines with stout hearts, but our 
numbers grow few. 
We feel that the years speed away, and our 
marches are done ; 
(41) 



42 " FALL IN ! " COMRADES 

We dream of the past, and live in the days that 
are gone. 

When we furled the old flag and broke ranks, we 
Boys in Blue, 
The new paths we trod led away from the old 
friends we knew. 
For life's struggles are single, each must bear his 
own brunt, 
The combat is not as in war, with a company 
front. 

And the buying and selling we do is but selfish 
at best ; 
The care for our own leaves small time for a 
thought of the rest ; 
And there often comes to us all a memory of 
simpler ways. 
The kindly deed, the generous trust, of good 
old soldierly days. 

When our chosen comrade, in the days we wore 
the Blue, 
Made the ration, scant for one, with cheer a 
large content for two. 
When one blanket covered both, and in the 
camp-fire's fitful gleams 
We talk'd of home and friends 'til words lapsed 
into pleasant dreams, 



"FALL IN!" COMRADES 43 

And the silent stars looked down upon the quiet 
camps serene, 
Where the tented fields lay peaceful as in a 
summer's dream, 
And the circling hills around us bounded all the 
world we knew 
In the days we camped together, dear old com- 
rades of the Blue. 

So wherever our lines have led us, we Boys in 
Blue, 
We never forget those earlier days, and our 
comrades stanch and true. 
And ever within our heart of hearts we held, with 
joy and pride. 
Friendship for comrades who lived, love for the 
comrades who died. 

The wisdom of years has brought to those who 
loved the Boys in Blue 
A deeper sense of the heroes to whom their 
love was due, 
And they know the honor of station and of riches 
seem but small 
To the worth of those who fought for the flag 
that floats over us all. 

O glorious flag of the fairest land that ever the 
sun shone on, 



44 "FALL IN!" COMRADES 

That gleams in the golden air with the light of 

victories won, 
With its silken folds caressing the war-worn, 

honored scars 
That won the stain from its stripes, and gave 

new hope to its stars ! 

With God's light in thy stars, O flag of the free, 
May the winds woo thy folds upon land and on 
sea. 
Till in glad years to come, with thy stripes in the 
van, 
All nations shall join the Republic of Man, 

And over the earth bright freedom shall shine, 
And Might be o'ermastered, and Right be 
divine ; 
And the peoples shall rise to a grand self-con- 
trol, 
And Justice and Truth rule and govern the 
whole. 

When the nations, at peace, all as brothers shall 
be, 
And no bounds set a bar to the feet of the 
free, 
And each flag that floats shall but tell us again 
Of peace upon earth and good will toward 
men. 



"FALL IN!" COMRADES 45 

O flag, that the sorrowful years set on high 
For the hope of to-day, for the world's pro- 
phecy, 

May the stars in the blue of the heavenly dome 
See thy stars shining still in the ages to come ! 

O comrades who fought, O brave Boys of the 
Blue, 
Let the whole world bring tribute of love unto 
you 
Who suffered through all the passion-spent years, 
With their grief and their wounds — their 
blood and their tears. 

O comrades, dear comrades, O Boys of the Blue, 
We are gray, we are old, but here 's both hands 
to you ; 
While we're marching downhill comes the old 
love anew. 
For we 're marching together, dear Boys of the 
Blue! 



THE VETERAN 

Nay, step aside, and give him space, 

Whose stained and threadbare suit of blue. 
And halting gait, and thin, worn face. 

Tells of the veteran tried and true ; 
And heed not, though with vacant stare 

He gives no way amid the crowd, 
But presses on with absent air. 

Half uttering his thoughts aloud. 

For the crowded street has gone from his sight. 
And the ring of his heel is the sentry's tread ; 
The grim old walls in the noonday light 

Have faded away, and over his head 
Is the Southern sky, and sharp and clear 
The challenge rings out. Halt ! — Who goes 

there ? 
And the bayonet gleams, as he paces his round, 
With the enemy camped on the hills beyond. 

And the wild Hurrah ! he hears again. 

Where the tattered flag leads the onward way. 

And the " minies " scream like the whistling rain ; 
But the trenches are ours, and the lines of gray 
(46) 



THE VETERAN 47 

Are surging back as the flag sweeps on. 

Oh, the patriot fire and the might of his hand, 
As he strikes for the victory almost won. 

And hears the joy bells ring through the land. 

Oh, the glory of home ! Sweet eyes that shine 

With the glow of love, when the dear name is 
seen 
On the battle page. — Oh, the faith divine, 

That believed and knew — when the world did 
not dream. 
That no Bayard of old bore a heart more pure 

Or courage more true, though day by day 
He only showed the strength to endure, 

And calmly plodded along his way. 

No grief to-day for the shrunken limb. 

No sigh for the empty sleeve at his side, 
No regret for the past, — though his eyes grow 
dim, 

And the light fades out of the battle pride 
Remembering, as our lines swept on, 

How gallant hearts went down to the dead, 
He heaves a sigh for his comrades gone, 

And walks along with a reverent head. 

Stretch out long streets in narrowing line ; 

Flow murmurous tides of busy feet ; 
Beat, hammer, with a constant chime ; 

O river, surge, the wheel to greet ; 



48 THE VETERAN 

Smile, reaper, in thy sylvan home. 
And harvest with a certain hand ; 

The strife is o'er — the victory won, 
And gentle peace is in the land. 

O Veteran, in whose gleaming eyes 

The glory of the past doth shine, 
In coming years the grandest prize — 

A nation's reverence shall be thine ; 
And burning words shall tell the world 

Thy noble deeds, who 'gainst the wrong 
The flag of freedom first unfurled. 

And suffering, made the nation strong. 

And glistening eyes shall throb with tears 

At names that, stamped on History's page. 
Shall aye go ringing down the years. 

The heroes of this patriot age. 
Like martial music, sweet and strong, 

Thy name, with theirs, shall ever be 
Borne onward by the tides of song, 

And crowned with immortality. 



GETTYSBURG — THIRTY YEARS AFTER 

Where down these silent slopes the changing 

leaves 
Gleam brightly in these peaceful harvest days, 
Where through the leaning grass the warm sun 

weaves 
The ruddy colors in a woof of golden haze ; 

Where close-shorn fields tell of the harvest gain, 
And meadows lie serene beneath the sky, 
And sheltered in the sheaves of yellow grain, 
The quail pipes amorous to an amorous cry ; 

Where fleecy clouds are drifting down the sky. 
And languorous shadows fall across the lea. 
Where from the stubble comes the noisy whir 
Of cicada and honey-laden bee ; 

And children's voices in the meadows, where. 
Barefooted, by the streams they gather flowers, 
Float faintly upward in the charmed air. 
And fill with melody the sunny hours ; 

Where restful by the open cottage door. 
The ancient matron with her spinning-wheel 

(49) 



50 GETTYSBURG 

Drones out the homely song that evermore 
Has sung the sweet content that only age can 
feel ; 

Where on this peaceful height the light serene 
Dwells like a benediction; and the summer sun 
Shines with a gentle glow on all the scene, 
To bless the sweet content the land has won, — 



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Here stood the lines of blue, with steadfast feet, 
While hell seemed raining from the sulphurous 

air, 
And hurtling shot and bursting bombshell beat 
In thunderous hail upon this summit, where 

[Unfinished.] 



OLD STEAMBOAT DAYS 

I CAN feel the vessel quiver as we 're booming 
up the river, 

Hear the dashing of the buckets by the panting 
steamer's side ; 

I can hear the deep bell tolling, see the Missis- 
sippi rolling 

In its surging, ceaseless flowing down toward 
the ocean tide. 

The strident steam escaping echoes through the 

sombre draping 
Of the hooded cypress trees that brood beside 

the turbid stream ; 
The flashing furnace light throws a glow across 

the night. 
Where the solemn shadows deepen beyond the 

passing gleam. 

I see the steam wreaths curling, the broad smoke 

flag unfurling, 
And the ceaseless creaking pilot wheel I hear ; 
The cabin lights are swinging, to the rhythmic 

cadenced ringing. 
And the tinkling of the swaying chandelier. 
(51) 



52 OLD STEAMBOAT DAYS 

The grand Ohio highlands, the willow-margined 

islands, 
The cornfields and the meadows to the water 

sloping down. 
The rippling pebbly beaches, the long and silent 

reaches, 
Where the river glides in silence past the sleepy 

little town. 

********* 

Oh, the olden days entrancing, when life seemed 

but romancing. 
How changed are all the old familiar scenes, 
Still the current deep and wide flows toward 

the ocean tide. 
Far beyond the crescent shores of New Orleans, 

[Unfinished.] 



SET TO MUSIC 



THE OLDEN TIME 

ARRANGED TO THE AIR OF "DOWN BELOW," AND 
DEDICATED TO THE HOME CLUB 

We sing the song of olden time, 

Of childhood's merry day, 
Where memory fondly loves to twine 
The springing flowers of May. 

When life was young, and 'round us sprung 

The hopes of life's bright morn. 
That, with the tears of bygone years, 
Are gone, all gone. 

Chorus : Swell the chime of the merry 

olden time, 
When youth was in its prime. 
The merry olden time. 

We journey on through weary j^ears. 

Along life's weary way. 
And watch the setting of life's sun, 
The dimming of its ray. 

But clear and bright still beams the light 

Our earlier days upon ; 
Tho' with the tears of bygone years, 
(55) 



56 THE OLDEN TIME 

They are gone, all gone. 
Swell the chime, etc. 

So in the autumn of our years, 

And in its dreamy haze. 
We turn our eyes through misty tears 
To childhood's happier days. 

And sing the chime of summertime, 
The hopes of life's bright morn, , 
That, with the tears of bygone years, 
Are gone, all gone. 
Swell the chime, etc. 



KATHLEEN O'MORE 

LINES WRITTEN FOR THE MUSIC OF AN OLD IRISH 
BALLAD OF THAT NAME 

Of sweet, gentle Kathleen, with eyes' loving 
light, 

How remembrance sweeps o'er me this sweet 
summer night. 

I dream of sweet Kathleen, my own loving Kath- 
leen, 
Sweet Kathleen O'More. 

Her brown hair in waves like the calm summer 

sea, 
Rippled o'er her pure brow ; ah ! like Heaven to 

me 
Seemofi sweet gentle Kathleen, my own loving 

Kathleen, 
Sweet Kathleen O'More. 

In the morn's early gleam sweet Kathleen was 

seen 
Tripping over the meadow, across the bright 

stream, 
And the waves danced for Kathleen, sang music 
for Kathleen, 
Sweet Kathleen O'More. 
(57) 



58 KATHLEEN O'MORE 

And I, like the waters, the birds, and the flow- 
ers, 
Was happy with Kathleen ; sped gayly the hours 
In loving sweet Kathleen ; ah ! who loved not 
Kathleen, 
Sweet Kathleen O'More. 

Ah ! radiant and rare in the soft summer air, 
The angels watched Kathleen, so good and so 

fair; 
Looked kindly on Kathleen, all loving sweet 

Kathleen, 
Sweet Kathleen O'More. 

How sad seems the night ! In memory's light 
Floats faintly sweet Kathleen, long passed from 

our sight ; 
For the angels loved Kathleen, in Heaven is 

Kathleen, 
Sweet Kathleen O'More. 



THE OLD PLAYGROUND 

MUSIC ARRANGED BY DE RUVER 

I AM sitting to-day in the old playground, 
Where you and I have sat so oft together ; 
I'm thinking of the joys when you and I were 

boys, 
In those merry days now gone, John, forever. 

'T was here we sat in the merry olden time 
And dreamed of the wide world before us ; 
Our visions and hopes of the coming time 
Were bright as the sun which shone o'er us. 

O'er this threshold, John, we passed forlorn, 

To wander, we knew not where ; 

The Heaven we thought bright was o'ershad- 

owed by night. 
The pathway lay dark and drear. 

I 'm sitting to-day in the old playground, 
Where you and I have sat so oft together ; 
These memories mild have made me a child. 
As in those merry days now gone, John, forever. 
(59) 



UNFURL THE GLORIOUS BANNER 

MUSIC COMPOSED BY HARRY KLEBER 

Unfurl the glorious banner, let it sway upon the 

breeze, 
The emblem of our country's pride on land and 

on the seas ; 
The emblem of our liberty, borne proudly in the 

wars, 
The hope of every freeman, the gleaming stripes 

and stars. 

Chorus : Unfurl the glorious banner out upon 

the welcoming air. 
Read the record of the olden time upon its 

radiance there ; 
And while it floats above us, a beacon it shall 

be 
Of gentle light in time of peace, or guide to 

victory. 

The noble band of patriots who gave the flag its 

birth 
Have writ with steel in history the record of their 

worth ; 

(60) 



UNFURL THE GLORIOUS BANNER 6i 

From east to west, from sea to sea, from pole 
to tropic sun. 

Will eyes grow bright and hearts throb high at 
name of Washington. 
Chorus. 

Ah ! proudly should we bear it, and guard this 
flag of ours, 

Borne bravely in its infancy amid the darker 
hours ; 

Only the true should wear it, — a guerdon it 
should be 

To those who well have won the right to boast 
of liberty. 
Chorus. 

The meteor flag of Seventy-six, long may it wave 
in pride. 

To tell the world how nobly the patriot fathers 
died; 

When from the shadows of their night outburst 
the brilliant sun, 

It bathed in light the stripes and stars, and lo ! 
the field was won. 
Chorus. 

Unfurl the glorious banner out upon the welcom- 
ing air, 

Read the record of their gallantry upon its radi- 
ance there ; 

In the battle it shall lead us, and the banner ever be 

A beacon light to glory, a guide to victory. 
Chorus. 



RHYMING ADDRESSES TO LETTERS 



Where the sunlight peers down through the 
quivering leaves 

And flecks the cool shadows of murmuring trees, 

And the birds and the sky and the earth are in 
tune 

With the radiant air and the roses of June ; 

Where the waters lapse in on the sedge ever- 
more, 

Bringing whispering sounds from the mystical 
shore 

Which, vague in the distance, and dreamy and 
dim, 

Seems a magical land on the lake's further 
brim, — 

There are two little fellows who all the day long 

Hear the musical winds, the wave and the song. 

What brings color and fragrance to all the bright 
flowers. 

Brings them beautiful things all the beautiful 
hours ; — 

Sweet vigor and health, and honor and truth. 

And all that gives color and fragrance to youth. 

Drink in all the sweetness, the peace, the con- 
tent, 

The rapture, the stillness, the joys that are sent ; 
(65) 



66 RHYMING ADDRESSES TO LETTERS 

Some day will come back, like a vision or dream, 
All these beautiful things, — all the charm of the 

scene. 
And my boy, WILLIE ALLEN, recall with a 

sigh, 
Sweet ELLIS COTTAGE, 

CHAUTAUQUA, N. Y. 



When little pet Mazie comes back from her fish- 
ing, 
Relating with pride how she "most caught a 

bite," 
Though the stream, sky, and air have been all to 

her wishing, 
They will not round out all her happiness, quite. 
For with evening comes tenderest thoughts of 

her home. 
The loving arms clasped, the last good-night kiss, 
And her blue eyes grow dim, and she feels all 

alone 
For a moment, in thought of the tender caress. 
To cheer up the dear Pet I send her this letter ; 
But be careful, dear postman, the dear little elf 
Is a dignified maid ! Perhaps you had better 
Ask for MARY L. ALLEN, else Petty herself 
Might think NEW CASTLE town had too free 

a way, 
And would want to leave there for this part 

of PA. 

(67) 



Where the bright waters murmur up the beach, 
And white-sailed ships lie dozing off the lea ; 
Where crescent shores extend in sandy reach, 
And nestles down HYANNIS by the sea ; 

Where dreamy hours glide by with silent feet, 
And peaceful days ebb gently as the tide. 
Where wood flowers tempt with odors sweet 
The fragrant winds that woo the ocean wide ; 

Where summer's skies are clear and crystal blue, 
And fleecy argosies float overhead, 
Where summer seas reflecting all their hue 
Stretch eastward till the sky and sea are wed, — 

There on the sands where rippling waters rhyme 
The melody that all the centuries know. 
The children, careless of the fleeting time. 
With joyous laughter watch the ebb and flow. 

O HAROLD ALLEN, of the Saxon line, 
Earlier seas brought sorrow to the Saxon king ; 
By peaceful seas a happier fate is thine, 
To you of hope and joy the waters sing. 
(68) 



RHYMING ADDRESSES TO LETTERS 69 

Through centuries may they sing their peaceful 

song, 
And laughing children by their margin wait ; 
And still for centuries to come sing on, 
And long bring joy and comfort to the OLD 

BAY STATE. 

On the broad prairie, where the summer sun 
Shines down on fields wherein the cornblades 

quiver, 
Where, winding slow, the pleasant waters run, 
There sits fair LAWRENCE by the KANSAS 

river. 

O fruitful fields, no more the echoing rifle 

Startles the listening winds with tales of slaugh- 
ter; 

When Slavery reached her murderous hands to 
stifle 

The beauteous prairie child, fair freedom's daugh- 
ter. 

O CHARLIE FINDLEY, eyes of summer 

blue 
Have wept for those who fell in that dread 

fray; 
And children, loving home not less than you, 
Have wandered homeless from these fields 

away. 



^o RHYMING ADDRESSES TO LETTERS 

And nameless men have died defending right, 
Where gentle peace now lingers by this stream ; 
No nobler deeds were ever writ in song, 
Or told of in romance's wildest dream. 

And so, dear boy, as through the streets you 

wend, 
With smiles for those you see on every side. 
Let grateful thoughts of living friends still blend 
With grateful thoughts of those who nameless 

died. 

O youth ! so eager for the world's great fight. 
Pause here awhile, accept the lesson taught ; 
Swear to be loyal ever to the right. 
Or else in vain for you these heroes wrought. 



Pass this letter along, my good man, custodian of 

P. O. locks ; 
You, mail clerk, get it in the right bag; you, 

postman, in the right box ; 
For my old friend, when his boat comes in, will 

call and see 
If the mail has brought him anything ; andCAPT. 

JOHN G. 
PARKER will get his back up if there is any 

delay. 
And you give him a letter to-morrow he ought to 

get to-day. 
He might say "cuss words," and might also 

think that I 
Should drop a line to Washington and ask them 

to pry 
Into the matter a little ; and a half dozen other 

fellows 
Who are waiting for your place would get out 

their little bellows 
And blow this spark into flame, and you might 

be "fired out," 
So pass this letter along, good fellows, both " end 

men" and en route, 
(71) 



72 RHYMING ADDRESSES TO LETTERS 

And get this letter to its owner all in proper 
season, 

Or in default thereof have prepared an excellent 
reason ; 

For neither to the one or other is the chance so 
dim, 

Either to you on the route, or to you, my friend, 
at OLYM- 

PIA ; but it would be wise to hurry up, my dear 
sir. 

And get this letter out and delivered to WASH- 
INGTON TER. 



When the night lamps are lit, and we 're grouped 

all together, — 
We folk that are left in the old house at home, 
Then we miss both the boys, and wondering 

whether 
They yearn, too, for us, as south'ard they roam ; 
We indite ye epistle, and thanking the railway 
Which, scornful of space, sweeps out from our 

sight, 
We know in brief time they will read what we 

say 
Of tenderest love on this sweet summer night. 
We know that even amid all their pleasure, 
'Mid old friends well met and friends newly 

found. 
It will add to their gladness additional measure 
To receive loving words from the dear Smoky 

Town. 
Some faith I have lost amid all the sterner 
And harassing cares that test worldly truth, 
But believe WILLIE ALLEN and bright 

JESSE TURNER 
Could never forget the dear friends of their 

youth. 

(73) 



74 RHYMING ADDRESSES TO LETTERS 

Time flies, my dear boys, spring is not forever ; 
Be gay when you can, all you can during 
This pleasant sojourn, you two cousins together ; 
With those whom we love in the town of VAN 

BUREN 
Enjoy all you may, inside of the law, 
And you '11 find pleasant people in old ARKAN- 
SAS. 



On Jordan's stormy banks he stood, and cast a 
wishful eye 

To Massachusetts' rocky shore, where fair pos- 
sessions He ; 

And as he gazed, there came desire, that strong 
and stronger grew, 

That he could leave his lonely life, and go and 
lie there too ; 

Whereon he girded up his loins, and left that 
land of darkness, 

And struck out for the rising sun ; behold him ! 
MARTIN HARKNESS, 

The youth within whose guileless breast dwells 
none of SALT LAKE's evil, 

Who scorns the many-wived UTAH as saints 
would scorn the devil. 

O miner, after all these years of toiling without 
measure, 

Your eager steps to home return to seek life's 
greatest treasure. 

Stand by, all gentile friends, to see again by Salt 
Lake's water 

This gallant homo come again, with Massachu- 
setts' daughter. 

(75) 



'je RHYMING ADDRESSES TO LETTERS 

Nay, only one, good Mormons all ; but see ! in 

Nature's plenty 
Are gathered all the charms in her you hope to 

find in twenty. 
Fair bride, accept my loving ruth, while friends 

press 'round to meet you 
I only (though with equal truth) may send these 

lines to greet you. 



JOHN H. ROBINSON, 

OIL CITY, PA., 

Hand this letter to CHIP ALLEN right away, 
Tell him to get that whereof I write, 
And to be home certainly next Tuesday night ; 
Vacation done, school demands the old toil 
For another year, he must go "short " on oil. 
Then maybe he can go again to Oil City ; 
Deo volente, and if not, more 's the pity. 
Only Ingersol et al " gang their ain gait" 
And deem no Higher Power bids go, or wait ; 
But we believe that even for Bulls and Bears 
The "Great Power" daily watches and cares. 
But I must say on faith it 's a heavy pull 
To think He worries over either Bear or Bull ; 
If faith had such another strain to endure, 
Ingersol would have it all his own way, sure, 

(77) 



Up the long line of prairie lands, 
The tiny threads of iron bands 
Wind thro' the ever deepening snow, 
Where Platte rolls down with seaward flow ; 
And lessening lines of spectral posts 
Bear burden of aeolian hosts 
That constant tell with moans and sighs 
Of gloomy lands and desolate skies. 
Still upward, where the mountain crest 
Looks down upon the farther West, 
The iron bands still seaward go, 
Past inland lake and rivers' flow, 
Through Mormon realm and land of gold, 
Through vineyard slopes and arctic cold. 
Through deserts drear and generous fields. 
Here lava rocks, there Nature yields 
The golden grain ; here heights sublime, 
There meadows green ; here rugged pine. 
There summer flowers ; but here and there. 
In summer skies and wintry air. 
The constant rails are ever seen 
Still pressing on to where the queen 
Of sunset shores sleeps on the bay ; 
And at her feet they lay the store 
Which they have brought from shore to shore. 
(78) 



RHYMING ADDRESSES TO LETTERS 79 

City Queen, unto your care 
They trust a treasure rich and rare ; 
To years of gray, from age of youth 

1 've treasured friendship, pure as truth ; 
And in these happy Christmas times. 
Enveloped in these careless rhymes 

I send to MISTRESS ANNE STROUD 
These Christmas lines. Nor think me proud, 

City Queen, O Ocean Bride, 
Because in all your golden pride 

1 deem you honored, bearing on 

This trust to PORTLAND, OREGON. 



'T WAS believed that the gleam of the earliest morn 
Lit up the bright east with the glorious rays, 
And with crimson and gold hailed the hour newly 

born, 
The herald of all the serene summer days. 

So all poets had sung, so astronomers taught, 
And the fable had come to us down thro' the 

ages ; 
But the silly tradition is now set at naught. 
We laugh at the teachers whom once we thought 

sages. 

For we know in the East we MISS MORNING 

GLORY, 
Where they taught us of old that the golden 

dawn-sun 
Streamed with banners of light, — 't is a fabulous 

story ; 
The brightness is all in the west with Miss 
JOHNSTON. 

The old myth has faded, the change has been 

thorough. 
The faith of our childhood has left us. Oh, why, 

oh, 

(80) 



RHYMING ADDRESSES TO LETTERS 8i 

Did they twist the horizon around to HILLS- 
BOROUGH, 

And move our bright East 'way out west to 
OHIO! 



On thy clear flowing tide, O beautiful river, 
Gliding down in the track of the westering sun. 
From thy shallows defend, from thy sand bars 

deliver 
The tiny, wee craft (till its haven is won) 
Of these young friends of mine whose intent is 

to wander, — 
One named ROBERT BURNS, one JOHN 

ALEXANDER, 
From thy source to where CAIRO will show to 

the boys 
How the grand Mississippi by fair ILLINOIS, 
The bluff, old, impetuous Father of Waters 
Receives in his bosom his fairest of daughters. 
O Postman of that ilk, when hither doth come 
A fair, frank young face, give this letter from home. 
You may smile at his eager and sparkling eyes 
When you hand it out to him, but yet will arise 
A sigh for your youth, as you, dreaming, re- 
member 
Your springtime of life, in this bleak, gray No- 
vember. 
For this gleam of your boyhood, as back your 

thoughts wander, 
Bid God-speed to John, our boy, John Alexander. 
(82) 



As down the old watery dad you meander, 
Just drop off at Memphis, O ! JOHN ALEX- 
ANDER, 
For there I have sent you a rhythmical letter ; — 
Seen that one at CAIRO, and gone you one 

better. 
So take up your oars, and companioned by Joy 
And Hope, bid farewell to fair ILLINOIS. 
(83) 



Now don't, my dear Postman, "go off on your 

ear," 
Because this rhythmical letter comes here ; 
'T would grieve me to think that this " raised your 

dander," 
And made you act ugly to JOHN ALEX- 
ANDER, 
My young artist friend who will float down the 

river, 
And ask you at MEM PHIS this sheet to deliver. 
Be gentle unto him, for O my dear "pard," 
It might be you 'd find yourself hit very hard 
By this sketchy young fellow who holds TEN- 
NESSEE 
At the point of his pencil, and might in his free 
And debonair style make a grotesque "dead set " 
At your cynical face; — and this would, "you 

bet," 
Be rueful to you when in some magazine 
He pictures the places and people he 's seen. 
So give him your bright side and reach out your 

hand. 
And "smole him a smile" that is childlike and 

bland ; 
And when further south'ard he wendeth his way, 
(84) 



RHYMING ADDRESSES TO LETTERS 85 

Wish him every good fortune ; but don't in your 

play, 
When for luck's sake you throw your old shoe as 

a present, 
Leave your foot in the leather, — it would n't be 

pleasant. 



Where I write there is snow deep on the ground, 
White-shrouded the trees, and keen and chill the 

air. 
He to whom this letter goes will be found 
In the land of the vine ; and yet there 
Will be seen snowy fields and icicles clear 
Side by side with meadows green, and tropic 

light 
With brassy skies, and glaciers with prisms 

bright, 
And angels' faces look down, and human faces 

divine 
All glowing with love, and peaceful, shine 
Upon my friend, who can, by magic spell 
And by deft use of magic brush, compel 
All scenes, all faces, both divine and human, 
Grave, earnest men, and tender, loving women. 
To be about him ; — can call all airs, all climes. 
Upon his glowing canvas, — the summer hours, 
With golden fields and sky-reflected flowers. 
Or winter fields, or autumn's leafless bowers. 
O Painter, more than this is thine — 
The power to gather hearts about thy shrine ; 
There may be those who little reck 
(86) 



RHYMING ADDRESSES TO LETTERS 87 

Thy genius, O ray friend, FRANK DUVAN- 

ECK; 
But none can in all beauteous FLORENCE see 
Thine equal as a friend. Nor can there be 
More generous heart in all fair ITALY. 



Ho, Postman of ASHLAND, don't frown, my 

good friend. 
Because toOHIO this letter I send ; 
With a rhyming address, while with specs on your 

nose 
You try to decipher the place where it goes. 
And wonder that those who send letters through 

you 
Cannot plainly direct them, as other folks do. 
It is simple enough, she 's so blooming and hearty, 
You certainly cannotMISS KATIE McCARTY; 
Put your specs in your case, do not bother your 

brains ; 
These stanzas have cost me no end of pains. 
There is no rhythm left, and the very next time 
I write her there shan't be a vestige of rhyme ! 
(88) 



Postman, old fellow, as through you I send 
This letter to give to my dear little friend, 

1 can fancy his comical look of surprise. 
And witness the gleam of his sparkling eyes 
As you say, " Little chappie, a letter for you. 
Addressed CHARLIE FINDLEY, here's some- 
thing new ; 

Just arrived in the mail for MEADVILLE, to- 
day, 

Postage all right, there is nothing to PA." 

And the dear little fellow will hardly know 
whether 

To thank you or me, or both us together. 

Well, let him thank both ; I send, you deliver ; 

If we gladden his heart, let us both be the giver; 

To give pleasure to youth is the purest of joys, 

What could we do more, we two jolly old boys ? 
(89) 



Whatever charm of sea or shore 

May linger by the seaside reach, 
There still may be a pleasure more 

To swell the magic of the beach. 

Whatever grace of sea or shore 

May linger by the ebbing tide, 
The constant sea for evermore 

Would MISS GRACE from its 

side, 

O time of roses, youth, and grace. 
Where you abide is the true court 

And realm of love, and her sweet face 
Has made the lists with you, NEWPORT. 

RHODE ISLAND, keep thy treasure well ; 

O waves, make music on the shore ; 
And like the murmur of a shell 

Sing, constant sea, for evermore. 
(90) 



This to my comrade, COLONEL JOHN H. 
CAIN, 

Camp'd where French Creek's famed historic 

stream 
Comes from the Lake, singing the same old strain 
And flashing, as it sings, the fitful gleam 
The painted Indian knew, paddling his light canoe 
Under the shaded banks and past the silent trees, 
Stirred by the horror of the scalp halloo. 
Borne to the awe-struck hills upon the shudder- 
ing breeze. 

A change is o'er thy waters since those evil days. 
Peace reigns where ghastly terror filled the air ; 
The church bells chime of peaceful Christian 

ways, 
And children's voices ring in laughter, where 
Of old the captive's shriek down by the water side 
Rang through the listening woods, in deep de- 
spair, 
In hours of torture ere the victim died. 
Hearing thy music mock his agony and prayer. 

While yet the babbling waters tell the woe 
Of fierce and bloody warfare thro' the years 
(91) 



92 RHYMING ADDRESSES TO LETTERS 

That now seems but a dream of long ago, 
When peace and safety banish all these fears, 
Happy, in all these happier days may bring, 
A peaceful people dwell in peaceful ways, 
And, still remembering what thy waters sing. 
Rest in the summer ease of summer days. 

Ah ! comrade mine, whose right to rest at last 
Was earned by suffering through the days of 

old — 
Through all the blood and tears of wars long past. 
And all the hardships that cannot be told, 
I fancy, like the stream that murmurs on, 
The past is with you still, and who shall say, 
What memories of the fateful days now gone 
Come to my comrade in his home, FRANK- 
LIN, PA 



IN CALLOW DAYS 



MUSIC 

iETAT 12 

It is music to the mariner 
To hear the light winds sigh, 
The murmur of the white-cap waves 
That fitfully roll by. 

It is music to the forester 
To hear the rude wind strong 
Rage through the forest, or to hear 
The wild bird's echoing song. 

It is music to the farmer 
To hear the rustling corn, 
As the bright sun shines upon it 
On a sunny August morn. 

The Poet loves the music 
Of the clear and sparkling rill, 
As it prattles o'er its pebbly way 
On an evening calm and still. 

But let me hear the music 
To our fireside memories dear — 
(95) 



96 MUSIC 

The melodies of childhood 
Are sweetest to my ear. 

They awaken thoughts of school-time, 
When we sported all the day, 
And our playmates' voices live again 
In the well-remembered lay. 



THE STOMACH-ACHE 

Ye that know what 't is to suffer, 
Join me in the prayer I make ; 
Of all the ills that flesh is heir to, 
Save me from the stomach-ache. 

Rolling, moaning, 

Tossing, groaning, 
Wond'ring what the world to take, 
'T is no trouble bending double. 

There 's nothing like the stomach-ache! 

Old Prometheus, from whose liver 
Vultures daily morsels take, 
(The thought 's enough to make one shiver) 
Knew nothing like the stomach-ache. 

Peppermint and ginger-tea. 

Whiskey hot, and sangaree, 
Though I 'm temperate, anything — 
Wine or gin, or brandy sling. 
My stomach is a spirit lake, 
Mercy on us ! what a rout — 
Enough to burn one's entrails out ; 

There 's nothing like the stomach-ache ! 
(97) 



98 THE STOMACH-ACHE 

Tantalus, who much desired 
" Suthin' " for his stomach's sake, 
Must have had a time of it, — 
But nothing Hke the stomach-ache ! 

Tying bedclothes in a knot, 

Heaving up you know not what, 
Now with knees up to your head. 
Springing almost out of bed, 
Now as stiff as any stake ; 

Grumbling, growling, 

Shrieking, howling, 

There 's nothing like the stomach-ache ! 

Ye who would the world forget. 
And the toils which it doth make, 
It is easy done — just set 
Yourself for touch of stomach-ache. 

Stomach sick, and head so dizzy, 

I warrant it to keep you busy 

Tumbling, tearing. 

Pitching, rearing. 
It 's the last attempt you '11 make ; 
When you try, you '11 not deny 

There 's nothing like the stomach-ache ! 



TO BROTHER GEORGE 

ONCE A FAMOUS MARBLE PLAYER 

Life 's but a game of marbles, George, 

And many do we meet 
Who don't " lay in their nickers," 

And try every way to cheat. 

There are those who live by " inching," 

And many " Sam McCord ; " 
And others, like (well, you know whom) 

Ne'er spend, but always hoard. 

Some all their lives " shoot easy," George, 
Some " plump," with might and main ; 

And always bear in mind that those 
Who risk naught, nothing gain. 

Many are "killed " in the "first ring," 
Some "knock their nickers fenn ; " 

Others lose courage with one " bad shot," 
And never " shoot " again. 

Some "knuckle" ere they "plump," George, 

Like birds which stoop to fly, 

(99) 
LofC. 



100 TO BROTHER GEORGE 

Then look with scorn on their old friends 
From their places set on high. 

Some always " draw," and all their lives 
Will dread the rich man's frown ; 

Others again have self-respect, 
And never "knuckle down." 

One in revenge will have " man dobbs," 
Though cowardly, my brother ; 

And you will find the men who will 
Strike one man through another. 

Some lose all ; and when they fail 
In what they 've undertaken, 

Being thus " fenn for the ring," 
Are by the world forsaken. 

So George, you see in your old game, 
In which you won the laurel. 

You filled your pockets with the spoil, 
And overlooked the moral. 

I guess that 's Life ; who wins the toss 
Hears but the coin's sweet chinking. 

And leaves the one who bears the loss 
To do the serious thinking. 



BURIAL PRAYER 

O ! BURY me by the green brookside, 
Where the willow kisses the rippling tide ; 
Where naught is heard but the waterfall, 
Or the echo of the red bird's call ; 
Where the flowers breathe sweets on the summer 
air — 

Bury me there. 

I am willing to die, and I bide my time 
Content, though cut off in the flush of prime ; 
But my hope would depart, and my peace be 

fled 
Did I know that my body, when I am dead, 
Would be laid in the dusty city, where 
All is noise and confusion — 

Not there, O ! not there. 

But afar in some sequestered glen, 
Far, far, from the busy haunts of men, 
Where the willow, with its drooping bough. 
Weeps for the one so lonely now ; 
Where the squirrel peeps out from hidden lair — 
Bury me there. 

(lOl) 



102 BURIAL PRAYER 

Where naught is heard on the turf above 
But the mourner's tread on the errand of love, 
Or the mournful call of the whippoorwill, 
As it wakens the forest so solemn and still, 
And the moonlight silvers the blossoms near — 
Bury me there. 

Then my spirit would hover o'er haunts loved of 

yore; 
And those who wept would grieve them no more, 
For the green grass above and the flowers around 
Would tell them of heaven, where my spirit had 

found 
A refuge and rest from all sorrow and care ; 
Then bury there, O ! bury me there. 



TO BROTHER WILLIAM 

ON THE HILL WATCHING THE COMING OF HIS HOME- 
WARD-BOUND BOAT 

Recently risen from sickness and pain, 
I am out in the free, pure air again, 
And on the grass-grown quarry's brow, 
In the cheering sun I am sitting now. 
In the dreamy home of an invalid's brain 
Fancy is weaving a wondrous chain ; 
Thoughts as of one forsaken and lone 
Weirdly mingle with thoughts of home. 
The city noise and the city hum 
Chastened by space, to me doth come 
Bringing thoughts, I know not why, 
Shadowy thoughts of days gone by ; 
Dim memories of happier hours. 
Like the lost scent of faded flowers. 
Yet one clear thought distinctly comes 
Through the misty veil of its dreamy home 
Like a clear star through the ether blue, — 
Looking for you, Willie, looking for you ! 

Looking for you, how the brain doth teem 
With myriad thoughts of what hath been 
(103) 



104 TO BROTHER WILLIAM 

The treasured hopes of long gone years — 
Their joys — their griefs — their smiles — their 

tears ; 
The world seems dim ; the skies above 
Have naught of earth but faith and love, 
And, purged from dross by painful days, 
I seem aloof from worldly ways, 
Forgetting all things of now and here, 
Save the great joy of your coming near ; 
Deeming all sounds, from grasshoppers' drone 
To song of the birds, echo " Brother, come home ; ' ' 
While Sol, dropping down to the sunset tree, 
Doth throw a smile on the waters for thee. 
And the last bright ray of the closing day 
Weaves a tissue of gold o'er thy coming way, 
And I with a hope-smile, radiant too, 
Am looking for you, Willie, looking for you. 



TO SISTER ELIZABETH 

WHO GAVE BACK TO ME A CORNELIAN EARDROP I HAD 
GIVEN HER AT CONCORD FARM, WHEN I CONSIDERED IT 
A GREAT TREASURE, AND THOUGHT I HAD MADE HER 
WEALTHY 

I GAZED on the Cornelian, and the youthful days 

so bright, 
When in my sunny boyhood dreams I almost 

saw the " light 
That never was on sea or shore ; " when e'en the 

summer sky 
With all its gladdening joyousness was half a 

prophecy, 
Came drifting dimly back to me, through the 

forgetful past, 
Seen faintly through the shadowy veil the years 

had overcast ; 
And a melody rang through it all, — a sweet and 

flute-like strain — 
The songs that Libbie used to sing ; and my 

youth came back again. 

And the past rose clear before me, and the misty 

veil uprose ; 
I saw sweet Concord's meadows green beneath 

the sun repose, 

(los) 



io6 TO SISTER ELIZABETH 

I saw the distant brooklet gleaming brightly in 

the sun, 
And the shadows of the forest trees tell when 

the day was done. 
I seemed to see the village church, and thro' the 

open door 
I saw devoutly kneeling men whose heads were 

silvered o'er 
By the frost of many winters, — whose hands, so 

palsied now. 
Had ofttimes in the furrowed field managed with 

skill the plough. 

And some who in the prime of youth knelt down 

on bended knee, 
With hearts uplifted thankfully to Thee, O God ! 

to Thee, 
And there the youthful mother, and the father's 

look of pride, 
And there the sturdy farmer with his children by 

his side ; 
Over all the quaint old hymn, borne sweetly in 

the air. 
And echoing thro' the forest, 'mid the solemn 

stillness there, 
Did mingle with the waterfall, reechoing down 

the rill, 
And die in rich, wild music far o'er the distant 

hill. 



TO SISTER ELIZABETH 107 

I wandered to the churchyard ; the simple head- 
stones bore 
The names of some with moss o'ergrown full 

many years before ; 
And some whose names upon the stone told of a 

later date, 
Of grieving friends who, mourning, weep at their 

untimely fate. 
One small mound, with flowers bedecked, told of 

the anguish wild — 
The deep, heart-broken sorrow of a mother for 

her child. 
But the sun shone warmly over all, and nestling 

shadows lay 
Calmly alike on fresh-carved tomb and on the 

tablet gray. 

I saw once more the green brookside with over- 
hanging trees, 

Where the music of the Third Church bell came 
faintly on the breeze. 

I heard again the crickets' chirp, I heard the wild 
birds sing, 

And distant sound of woodsman's axe thro' the 
old forest ring. 

Away far up the brookside, and through the 
quivering leaves, 

I see the large, old rambling barn, with birds' 
nests in the eaves ; 



108 TO SISTER ELIZABETH 

And while the clear brook at my feet, still flow- 
ing, murmurs on. 

The rippling waters bring to me sweet thoughts 
of days now gone. 

Then to our little milldam, where we thought the 

ducks would swim, 
(And where perhaps they would have, had it held 

the water in), 
I saw the two blood horses, Wild Nell and patient 

Sally, 
And the spot where Walter buried one adown 

the lonesome valley ; 
I seemed to see the orchard, it all looked just the 

same; 
E'en to that stout old apple-tree where William 

cut his name, 
And the little house that Walter built beneath 

the straw so deep, 
Where we 'd read the Cyclopaedia, and reading, 

fall asleep. 

A change is o'er my spirit, and I no more can 

see 
The scenes I have recalled again of boyhood's 

days of glee ; 
And naught is now before me but the stone I 

sent to you. 
And a vague remembrance of the good I then 

thought it could do. 



TO SISTER ELIZABETH 109 

Change has come sadly over all, and still must 

changes come, — 
As it has been so it must be, 'til our journey 

here is done ; 
I 'm not the same, nor you the same, and o'er 

that quiet home 
Years have brought change, and it is drear, and 

desolate, and lone. 

You 've sought another home since then, where 

the Indian trod before, 
And where on high their graves are seen on far 

Virginia's shore. 
And one whose laugh with yours rang out and 

floated o'er the hill, 
In distant lands since often heard, is now forever 

still. 
And I, the happy-hearted boy, who, in my joyous 

youth 
Thought all I saw was as it seemed, — all purity 

and truth, 
Upon those hills no longer roam ; nor ever can 

there be 
As cheering sun, as brightening hopes, as once 

shone over me. 



REPLY OF COLONEL EDWARD JAY ALLEN 

To Asst. Adjutant General Thomas, on his pre- 
sentation of a flag from the State of Pennsyl- 
vania to the 155th Regiment Penna. Volun- 
teers at Sharpsburg, Maryland, after the battle 
of Antietam, 1862 

General, — In behalf of the one hundred and 
fifty-fifth regiment Pennsylvania Volunteers, I 
receive at your hand with pride and pleasure this 
glorious proof that the Old Commonwealth has 
not forgotten her sons who went forth from her 
bosom to battle for the integrity of the Federal 
Arch, of which she is the keystone. 

While I am proud that Pennsylvania deems us 
worthy of so precious a trust, I receive it with a 
saddened heart ; for gazing upon its starry folds 
I remember the tried and the true who have gone 
down to the silent dead in this struggle of free- 
dom against despotism while the end for which 
they fought was yet unaccomplished. 

Brave spirits ! Gallant souls ! May the mem- 
ory of their deeds nerve us in our hour of battle, 
that we may garner the harvest of which they 
planted the seed. 

Remembering the calm grandeur of these 
heroes dead, it is not for us to make promise of 
(no) 



COLONEL ALLEN'S REPLY in 

our future ; but we may say to you, the honored 
representative of our native State and of home, 
that we feel the deep responsibility resting upon 
all Americans in this struggle, and hope that 
when we go forth to the fray, as better men 
have gone before us, we will merit the confidence 
of those who love us, and some day may turn 
toward home and deliver this banner once again 
to Pennsylvania, and, grouped about it lovingly, 
may say with pride and with truth. Tattered 
though it be by the winds of heaven, soiled 
though it be by the dust of earth, stained by the 
blood of our comrades in the field, we give it 
again to thy trust, O Pennsylvania, undimmed 
by shame, unstained by dishonor. 

Battles in which the regiment was engaged : — 
Antietam Bethesda Church 

Fredericksburg Cold Harbor 

Chancellorsville Petersburg 

Aldie Weldon Railroad 

Rappahannock Station Peebles Farm 

Mine Run Hatchers Run 

Wilderness Quakers Ford 

Laurel Hill Boydton Plank Road 

Spottsylvania White Oak Road 

South Anna River Five Forks 

Tolopotomy Sailors Creek 

Gettysburg 
Appomattox 



l7 1901 



DEC 24 ISOO 



"library of congress 

llllillllllllilllll 

015 785,274 7 



